Author: Colleen S.

I enjoy writing, sitting at the beach for hours on end; just staring out into the beautiful vastness. I love stargazing, and playing with babies. My one ambition in life is to be a published author. I also would love to travel to Dublin, Scotland, Paris, and London. And my current male celeb lust object is Tom Hiddleston.

Although I’ve said in the past I would refrain from getting political, tonight I have reached the breaking point. So, here’s my statement, and I will leave it there:

I sincerely hope that all you people who voted for Trump or those Republican bastards that are too weak to oppose him are cool with all your West Coast family and friends being annihilated by North Korea because Trump and Kim Jong-Un are playground toddler bullies trying to outdo each other. But instead of knocking a small few kids into the sand, we are having to deal with nuclear weapons.

I don’t know about you, those random few right-wing a-holes, but I’m not willing to die for a 71-year-old infant who, by an effed up voting system, has the power to pull this crap.

Okay, so as I wrote months ago, I removed most of the posts about Aidan and Matt. What I did leave behind were posts discussing nothing too revealing, and the Drama Scene from which the tailspin that was me writing a (now) 96 page story about these two guys.

As I mentioned previously, I had planned to do this in the future so that I could some day submit the story for publishing. While that day is nowhere close to occurring, I wanted to be prepared. Speaking of the story, I am doing more editing, and just admiring passages that I have written. As those of you who have been with the blog since the story was born, this is my baby. I have written countless other stories, some which I love, but this one is my passion project. I walk away from it for weeks at a time, but I always come back.

Hopefully, I have removed all evidence of previously written parts. Feel free to check out the tags if you wish to read what I’ve left.

For those of you who live in the United States, it is the week of one of our biggest holidays of the year. For others, like me, it is just another day that reminds us that we have family that we like to avoid.

I am not going to get into the nitty-gritty of why I hate Thanksgiving (check out the tags for that), but here it is again. Living in an apartment, this holiday signifies hell for the next month and some odd days. Until January 15, I will be forced to hear the music of the college student who lives downstairs, while her mom is at work for several hours, blissfully unaware of what she is doing.

In other news, I am submitting weekly excerpts of a story I wrote for my grandma’s birthday to Vocal, a site for all sorts of things. I just submitted the second part, albeit a few weeks’ later than I should have.

If you want to check out the story, just find the ‘Humans’ section, and look for Autumn and Winter Romance.

There isn’t much else going on with me. Maybe with the holidays coming, I will blog more.

I haven’t done one of these in a long time, so I will reveal a quiz result from Buzzfeed on what my cinematic element would be.

You got: A high-contrast, whimsical period piece with dark themes

Think of standing in a dark hallway eavesdropping on someone, and holding a candle while it flickers over your face, casting creepy shadows on the wall. Think of white ballgowns, mint green rooms, ornate chairs, and devastating secrets whispered about over tea.

Does that not sound like something I would be into? I am strongly into Victorian/Edwardian-themed films where someone lurks in a corner with a candlestick, eavesdropping.

Having your sister at your grandma’s with photos of your mom as a young child brings certain revelations, mainly those of the fact that you resemble her at the same age. My mom and I looked alike until I was about six, and that is basically where our similarities end. Having used FaceApp, I was able to age myself, and looked just like my grandma.

These are likely to be the last of these posts, since my sister is coming home early, on Wednesday. I kind of wish I were there in person to see them all for myself, since she is only sending the ones she thinks are funny or of our grandparents and our mom.

My grandma and my momMy grandpa and my momMe and my younger sister on Halloween 1992. She was a kitty and I was a wizard.My youngest sisters in early 1996. My youngest sister looks like the Gerber baby.

My younger sister is down at our grandma’s, and she has three tubs full of photos. My sister has been sending them to us throughout the day, and they have been fun to look at. I am sharing a few, although not the ones of my youngest sister when she was a cherubic baby and the Gerber baby doppelganger.

My youngest sisters and I, most likely in 2000. These photos remind me to not repeat fashion mistakes.My mom’s parents, 1955/1956 when my grandpa was stationed in FranceMy maternal grandpa in either Vietnam or Korea. My bet’s more on Vietnam.My grampy and me (and my aunt). This photo is totally getting framed.

Things have been going well. I was really close to getting a job with the local library, being #6 out of the top five for the position. It sucks, and I am hoping to find something that doesn’t require me to get up at the crack of dawn or be working past 9 pm every day of the week.

My birthday was … okay, but wasn’t really all that eventful. I got some cool presents, and that is about it. I am getting a tattoo in less than three weeks, and I want to be autumn.

Okay, let’s proceed with the actual post that is named in the headline. As you may know, I wrote a review for Yelp in the event I actually moved out of my apartment in April, which didn’t happen. It also happens to be three pages long (and counting), which obviously is far too long to post anywhere but a blog. What you read below is something I have compiled over the last four years, and even then, I had omitted a lot of stuff to cut down the length for Yelp (although I will be adding in some things I wrote about the management company in the following review as well). For obvious reasons, I will not be naming the complex.

I was on Tumblr (sometimes I feel as though I am the only thirty-something roaming that site, despite the fact I know otherwise), and I came across this post about Alexander Skarsgard that I found funny but related to.

For me, the first person I can really remember having a crush on in a movie was the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. I couldn’t even tell you why, since I was five or six. I figure it was his spirit or the fact that he was just a no-nonsense type of person. Over the years, this adoration has also expanded to include the Tin Man, but there is a soft spot for Scarecrow. I wouldn’t go as far as Alexander to say that is why I am not married or in a relationship, because that is where this comparison ends.

For anyone new to this blog, there are a couple of posts floating around about my woman crush on the Wicked Witch of the West. I highly suggest you all check those out, in case you need further proof of how weird I am. I also skip through the movie to avoid the sugary ick of Dorothy (which I also explain in those other posts). Click on the tags to find those related posts.

I received an interesting email two weeks ago, saying that the owner of the site that I submitted the introverted retail worker article to was publishing a book that contains parts of my article. Obviously, I am not getting paid for this, but it is still cool to be in a book.